


You'd be an Angel

by pastelfalcon



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2042844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelfalcon/pseuds/pastelfalcon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a thing, now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'd be an Angel

The bed smells like courtesy soap and sex, the sheets thick with it after two nights without letting anyone in to clean their hotel room. They’ve kept under the radar this long; the last thing they need is a maid figuring out the two guys that only come and go after sundown aren’t here on business of the non-superhero kind.

Sam turns his face into his pillow and scrubs his face against it, groaning softly in exhausted pleasure as he stretches his arms up and situates them beneath his forehead. Keeping up with Cap is like trying to keep pace with a corvette on a tricycle.

Steve comes back from the bathroom and flops gracelessly onto the bed, bouncing once before rolling onto his side and sliding up against Sam like he knows exactly how much Sam’s skin craves the warmth he radiates. “You doin’ okay there?” Steve asks, soft and polite. He drops a kiss to Sam’s shoulder.

Sam snorts, not looking up. “Ask me again after I stop seeing that stupid-ass HYDRA symbol every time I close my freakin’ eyes.”

“Let me know when you figure out how to do that,” Steve mumbles, lips still pressed to Sam’s skin, his voice muffled.

Sam knows that tone and the expression that comes with it. He’s tempted to roll over and kiss away the furrowing between Steve’s eyebrows and the slant of his frown, but before he can move, Steve snuggles up closer and starts touching his shoulders.

It’s a thing, now. Steve sketching out designs across his shoulders and down the slope of his back, sometimes drawing his concept out across the back of Sam’s arms, his fingertip slow and precise in its swirling, sweeping gestures. He’s been doing it almost as long as they’ve been getting single bed hotel rooms, and occasionally he takes his impromptu ideas to paper, sketching Sam in various states of undress with wings tucked back or stretched out around himself.

Today the feathers are thin, sharp blades, requiring the edge of Steve’s nail to visualize their narrow lines against Sam’s dark skin. The wings drape halfway down his back, ending in carefully tucked points. Sam keeps his eyes closed, letting Steve’s touch conjure up the picture in his head.

“You keep doin’ that and one of these days they’re gonna sprout up outta my skin like some kinda horror movie,” Sam says sluggishly, flexing his shoulderblades.

“You wouldn’t be a monster,” Steve says, and it’s doesn’t sound like an argument but a statement of fact, “You’d be an angel.”

“An angel, huh,” Sam mumbles, finally shifting his arms so he can turn his head towards Steve. “You romanticize the shit outta me, man. I’d look goofy as hell with feathery wings.”

“You’d be beautiful,” Steve says firmly, a slight line between his brows like Sam’s offended his artistic sensibilities. “You _are_ b—”

“Don’t start that shit with me, Steve, I still haven’t caught my breath from the last round,” Sam warns him sharply, but Steve just grins and drops his chin onto Sam’s shoulder, detailing the feathers on his back with quick flicks of his fingertip like brushstrokes.

“It’s not always HYDRA,” Steve says after a moment.

“What, when you close your eyes?” Sam asks, relaxing back on his folded arms.

“Sometimes it’s you,” Steve murmurs, and his hand stills as he finishes his invisible work. “I like when it’s you.”

Sam swallows, his throat suddenly hot and tight. “Wish it was always me, man. But we both know it doesn’t work that way.” And it’s not with dismissal that he speaks, but with tenderness, his voice soft with a hundred conversations’ worth of understanding.

He can hear Steve’s smile as he says, “Yeah, but I’m glad it’s like that sometimes.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for samstevetrash on Tumblr over this post, "can we talk about steve tracing wing patterns on sam’s back while they’re together? because i’m really emotional about the meaning behind it—either to remind sam of the hero he is, or referring to sam as an angel."


End file.
